


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

by handcversbruise



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, louis and Eleanor are bullies and punching happens, this makes no sense i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handcversbruise/pseuds/handcversbruise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things Harry Styles is mentally prepared for at all times (natural disasters, jeans ripping in inconvenient places, an impromptu poetry recital) but the longterm girlfriend of his bandmate asking why  they haven’t slept together isn’t one. (Well the time with Zayn and Perrie doesn’t count.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me With Your Best Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a birthday present for the lovely Emily! Hope you enjoy it sis!

“Do you bottom, Harry?”

 

Harry spits out his drink when he hears Eleanor ask. She’s closer to him now, close enough that he can smell her perfume. It’s nice that she’s wearing Our Moment, he thinks, it’s also weird as fuck that she’s asking about his sex life and eyeing him expectantly, like he’s taking too long to answer. Her hair’s in loose curls tonight since they’re going to some event, her dress is simple and black. She looks pretty, even Harry can admit that, but her usual innocence is gone and he can’t quite place what the look in her eyes is saying.

 

There’s a chair to the right from where he’s sitting and she drags it closer to him. “Are you top only? Or do you not really care?” Her voice shows no hint of a joke. Harry wonders if Eleanor’s drunk. Please God, let her be drunk. If she is then Louis can deal with her and Harry can pretend this conversation never happened.

 

Eleanor’s not drunk. It’s seven pm but their event isn’t until eleven. Harry hasn’t even got any alcohol out, how could she be so obviously wasted? He’s regretting asking her and Louis to come over to watch a movie before the party. Eleanor’s looking at him from her seat on the couch; Harry’s trying to remain extremely focused on his phone and ignores the way she bats her eyelashes at him. She leans over on her chair and places a gentle, manicured hand on his shoulder.

 

“Have you fucked my boyfriend, Haz?”

 

He jumps out of his chair at that. Eleanor is on crack. There is honestly no other explanation for this. She must have a very serious addiction or maybe she’s possessed by the devil because she’s never even addressed the mentions of Larry.

 

(The answer to her question is no, but he’s thought about it one too many times, which is okay because he feels very bad about it. It hardly counts.)

 

“Are you out of your mind? No!” He means to sound something like offended but it comes out petulant.

 

She laughs for the first time all evening; Harry half expects her to say she’s been joking all along.

 

“Why not?”

 

There are a lot of things Harry Styles is mentally prepared for at all times (natural disasters, jeans ripping in inconvenient places, an impromptu poetry recital) but the longterm girlfriend of his bandmate asking why  they haven’t slept together isn’t one. (Well the time with Zayn and Perrie doesn’t count.)

 

He’s not sure how to answer her, if he’s honest. He probably could have, on the X Factor, but they were both awkward so it never happened. Now Louis is with Eleanor and Larry is the biggest load of bullshit Louis’ ever heard. He’s happy, why can’t you accept that?

 

He looks her at her, trying to gauge the angle that she’s approaching this with. She doesn’t seem upset, just amused.

 

“Because he’s dating a wonderful, intelligent, gorgeous girl and we’ve always been just friends.” He flashes her a big smile, dimples and all.

 

He immediately regrets that though. There’s a loud crack and suddenly Eleanor’s fist has just possibly broken his nose. If he wasn’t in massive amounts of pain, he would probably compliment her right hook.

 

“Did you just punch me?!” His voice sounds nasally, like he’s congested, and he feels a bit of blood drip out of it. He’s not entirely sure how to respond to being punched. Eleanor’s beaming at him.

 

She shrugs. “Your face makes me want to punch things.”

 

Harry’s terrified. Eleanor seems calms and Harry’s positive he’s going to end up as a LifeTime movie. He can see the headline now: Former Pop Star Found Dead by the Hands of His Bandmate’s Girlfriend.

 

He’s too young and too pretty to die. He should probably run away; Eleanor’s in heels and he’s not tripped over himself in two whole days so he might have a chance of making it out alive.

 

Except he’s still standing in front of Eleanor and sort of can’t move. She moves around and her hair looks so soft and flowy that it makes Harry wonder how someone so feminine can have psychotic tendencies.

 

Actually that’s cissexist, sexist, and a little ableist and Harry is angry at himself for thinking something so harmful. He’s in the middle of social justice-ing himself when Eleanor grabs his hands and leads them over to the couch. She pushes him down and then sits on top of him. She’s awfully handsy and she runs her hands through his messy hair--he’s very lucky he washed it earlier.

 

“You’re very pretty. Like a princess.” She says this with a giggle that makes her eyes light up.

 

That’s a very nice thing of Eleanor to say considering Harry’s nose is swollen, a weird combination of purple, red, and green, and it’s still bloody. He blushes and rests his head on her shoulder. He mumbles a “Thank you, El” and his breath seems to tickle her because she giggles and jerks around on his lap.

 

They must look cozy, Eleanor giggling while he blushes, and Louis clearly thinks so as he walks in to find them in that position. Harry’s pretty sure he’s in a Telenovela now. All that’s missing is the evil twin.

 

“Louis!” Eleanor shrieks excitedly as she runs to meet him at the front of Harry’s flat. She places a kiss on his cheek and takes his hand, practically skipping into the living room where Harry remains frozen in his seat.

 

“Hey. El and Harry.. what’s going on?” Louis isn’t known for patience and understanding and Harry can tell he’s pissed.

 

Eleanor doesn’t seem to mind very much considering she immediately settles back on top of Harry. He tries to push her off but she’s clinging like a fucking koala. She starts trying to braid Harry’s hair and Louis is slowly inching over to them. Harry’s afraid for his life.

 

“Nothing’s happening! Eleanor’s been acting weird all night!” He hears the panic in his voice.

 

Eleanor slaps his shoulder and let’s out an indignant, “Hey!” Louis looks more angry; Harry contemplates taking a vow of silence.

 

“I catch you ravaging my girlfriend and then you insult her?!”

 

Harry rolls his eyes at Louis’ dramatics because really, Harry was not ravaging Eleanor. He looks up to see her pouting but agreeing with Louis. Somehow Harry’s managed to surround himself with lunatics.

 

“I was not ravishing her! she--she punched me! She asked me all sorts of weird questions then she said I was pretty and you came in--”

 

Harry is a cartoon character, he is the roadrunner and someone’s dropped an anvil on his head because he is seeing stars. His face might even be on fire because it hurts, so much more than the first time. It probably hurts more than childbirth, not that he’s trying to belittle the struggle those who bear children go through.

 

Louis is staring at him but he’s shaking his right hand. Eleanor is laughing delightedly next to him. If he makes it through this night ,he’s going to demand Zayn relinquish the “bad boy” title over to him because he’s now been punched twice.

 

Harry gives Louis a look of disbelief (a bad idea since his nose is about to fall off his face). He considers crying; he looks pathetic when he cries, pathetic crying people don’t get punched.

 

Louis shrugs. “You talk too slow.”

 

Eleanor pushes Louis onto the couch. Her eyes are shining with pure evil, or at least that’s how Harry interprets it.

 

“I did punch him though. He didn’t answer my questions.” She straddles Louis, hips resting lightly on his, nibbling on his ear.

 

Harry’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be watching this.

 

Louis moans softly. (Harry’s sure he’s not supposed to be watching.) “What questions?” He looks like he’s melting as he gives Eleanor complete control of the situation.

 

Harry’s struggling to breathe but that might be because of his nose.

 

Eleanor’s grinding on Louis now and Harry hates his life a lot.

 

“Oh, I asked if he bottoms and why he’s never fucked you.” Her voice is firm and unwavering. He’s praying Louis reacts as strongly as he did.

 

Louis makes a sound Harry’s never wanted to hear, at least not with Eleanor around. “Oh okay.” His voice is barely above a whisper; it must be very difficult to make conversation while engaging in nearly public sex on your friend’s couch.

 

Eleanor’s licking at Louis’ neck as she grinds, occasionally biting down hard. Louis is whimpering. Her hands begin to wander and yeah--Harry needs to get out of there. He should maybe see a doctor.

 

He steps into the kitchen and sends Zayn a text saying, “SOS!! I’VE BEEN ATTACKED.” He’s going to lock himself in his room for the rest of his life. No, first he’s going to have someone burn the couch. Then he can record from home, have groceries delivered. He can hide away forever because he never wants to face Louis again.

 

(He’s also going to have to Google, “why did getting punched in the face by my mate and his girlfriend get me hard” but no one needs to know that.)

 

He’s making tea. He’s British, it’s how he deals with crises. He’s going to make tea and ignore the loud noises coming from his living room. He is not picturing himself on top of Louis with a vigilant Eleanor watching.

 

He’s very upset and needs Zayn to text him back. With his luck Zayn’s asleep..

 

He does the dishes after his tea because cleanliness is next to godliness and he has to pass the living room to get to his room and they should fire whoever designed the apartment that way, honestly.

 

He’s just filled up several pots with water when his phone rings. Naturally, because the universe hates Harry Styles, he hears a groan that sounds very much like his name come from the living room and he freaks out and there goes his iPhone.

 

He thinks back to that time when he stood outside McDonalds as his mental soundtrack played “Mad World” and he feels very sad. But he also wants to know why people are groaning his name and that beats sadness.

 

He leaves his iPhone in the sink (because it’s not like he can’t just get one of his spares), practically running towards the couch and what he finds is definitely not what he was expecting.

 

Eleanor’s got Louis almost completely naked now and Louis looks completely wrecked. His eyes are closed and his neck is full of bite marks. He’s squirming slightly but Eleanor seems to have him pinned down pretty well.

 

She catches Harry staring at them and looks at him.

 

“Hurry up and join us Harry.”

 

And well, it’s not like Harry’wanted to go to that dumb party anyway.

  
  
  



End file.
